


It Will Make You Hurt

by NotSoHumanAnymore



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcoholism, Crying Rick, Dehydration, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Free Rick Sanchez, Imprisonment, Manipulation, Mentioning Of Character Death, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mind Control, Nudity, Pain, Post Season 2, Pre Season 3, Rick in prison, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Why arent there more fanfics about this, You guys are in for a fucking ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoHumanAnymore/pseuds/NotSoHumanAnymore
Summary: Rick didn't expect to be broken out of prison. Least of all, he wasn't expecting it to be done by Morty. But this isn't any other Morty. Of course, that means he wasn't just any other Rick.-----------------Basically evil Morty who may or may not be Rick's original Morty "saves" him but in doing so takes him to a super shady lab to have his mind fucked with while he's still recovering.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a Rick and Morty fanfiction for a while and this has been on my mind. I might expand on it if I get ideas. If any of you guys get ideas feel free to comment them and I might go further with this.

Sometimes, Rick started to regret turning himself in. It was usually when the hunger pains hit the hardest or the restraints felt the coldest. He would regret it, and then he would think about way out. It wouldn't be hard, he would just need to dislocate a few of his fingers in one hand and get ahold of a few things. Really, he could just trick a guard to come up there and then he would be free in a matter of seconds.

Whenever he began to think of these things, even if he was half asleep and imagining turning into a fucking hotdog to escape, he would think about Morty. And then he would think about how the Galactic Federation would torture him for information. And then he would think about the information he would spill if that happened. The Citadel of Ricks. Unity. The fact that they replaced their selves from another dimension. How their brain waves cancel each other out. The miniverse in his car battery.

This train of thought always led to Summer, which then led to Beth. She didn't deserve any of this. Not the abandonment. Not her husband. Not the abandonment again, even if it was meant to save her life. And she didn't need to be tortured for information she didn't have. He was such a terrible father, and an ever worse grandfather. A worse friend. Bird Person didn't deserve this. Squanchy didn't deserve this. Fuck.

Rick leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Gravity pulled on his body. Everything hurt, especially his stomach. He was only fed once a day, and it was this cold grey sludge through a tube. It tasted like rotten fruit and salt with a hint of iron. A horrible combination that almost made him vomit the first few times. It always left him on the edge of satisfied, his stomach still growling for more. He could only imagine how much weight he must have lost.

There were a lot of foods he missed, and a lot of flavors he had trouble recalling. He remembered that his cereal that consisted entirely of knockoff lucky charm marshmallows tasted sweet and was soft between his teeth, but he couldn't recall exactly what it tasted like. Beth's pancakes were warm and fluffy. They tasted amazing, at least he thought they did. He could bring an echo of the flavor to his mouth, but he could practically feel the soft, syrup soaked cake on his tongue. 

Orange juice was weird. He could remember what it tasted like after he brushed his teeth, the bitter tang assaulting his senses. The real flavor though, the sweetly sour juice slipping down this throat and cooling his stomach, he couldn't force back for the life of him. Toothpaste was something he remembered the feel of, the frosty sting against his tongue and lips, as well as the burning minty flavor. He drew a blank on peanut butter all together.

He hummed absent mindedly then did it again when he realized so loud the silence was. His stomach growled in response. What was Morty doing? Was he eating? Rick bet he was eating breakfast, despite having absolutely no idea what time it was on Earth. Did Beth make pancakes or did she stay on bed? Was she still working? Was horse surgery no longer needed because Earth was a new vacation spot for the entire universe? Did she get a new job or was she too depressed to do it? Jerry had better not have forced her into anything. If he did Morty had better have done something to ruin that man's day because he really didn't deserve a wife like Beth and children like Summer and Morty. Of course, they also didn't deserve a grandfather like Rick.

There was a flash of green, the light hurt even through closed eyes, and the sound of a portal opening and closing. For a brief second, Rick thought he imagined it. Then he hoped he imagined it because otherwise Morty, Summer, and Beth would be hurt more than they would even be able to comprehend. He prayed to whatever god existed that he was finally going crazy.

"Open your eyes Rick." Morty said with a sigh.

"Morty?" Rick's voice cracked with disuse. He forced his eyes open to see someone he never thought he would see again. He didn't know what to feel so he tried not to feel anything.

Morty stood confidently as he took what looked almost like a smart phone only more advanced and attached it to the wall. He stared at it for a moment, typed a few things into the screen, then let go. The machine let out a quiet beeping sound, then a ding. Suddenly the metal latches opened and Rick dropped to the narrow floor. 

Something lurched in his stomach and he couldn't force himself to rise to his feet. His limbs shook and he left like he was going to faint. A small hand gripped his bisep. He glanced up at Morty, then at the portal gun in his grandson's hand. Rick knew he shouldn't be doing this, he knew what this would do to his family, but the words wouldn't come. He was selfish. He was weak. He would find a way out of this later.

A portal opened in a nearly blinding flash of green. When he didn't move the hand jerked sharply. He almost fell on his face, but decided it wasn't completely undignified to crawl through a portal. And then he was enveloped in green.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh so I wrote more. Idfk where I'm going with this. No ideas so I'm just going when I think of something. Idk

There was a certain level of fear in Rick as he crawled out of the portal and entered a dimly lit room. He knew this wasn't his Morty. He knew that by leaving he was putting his Morty in great danger, along with the rest of his family. 

Rick could see the plasma gun hanging from Morty's belt. It had caught his eye when his grandson walked through the portal. The threat was there, even when it wasn't spoken. He would have to listen to this Morty, at least until he could find a way out of this. Get to his family and run off to another universe. At least get Morty, Summer, and Beth. Fuck Jerry.

"Stay." Morty commanded, releasing his grandfather's arm.

Rick had half a mind to protest, in this condition he couldn't get himself off his hands and knees, much less fight with his stronger than normal grandson. He watched the younger man walk into the shadows, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. There was silence, minus the disorienting footsteps. The sound jumped around the empty ceiling and darkened walls.

There was a sigh as Morty returned. He held a bottle of water in one hand and a small metal band in the other. Rick awkwardly maneuvered himself into a half sitting, half laying position. It was almost surprising how little motor control he had left. He would have been surprised if he hadn't been expecting it.

Morty sat in front of him, his eyes tired but focused. He looked like a paradox in human skin. Sharp where he should be dull. Relaxed when he looked ready for a fight. Calm, but hiding a storm. Strong. Concentrated. Intelligent. Not to say that Mortys were stupid, although that was part of what made a Morty a Morty, but this one held an intelligence in his eyes. One that should only be mirrored in another Rick's eyes.

"I-Its been a while huh?" The elder man hummed, his voice weak from disuse. 

"Shut up Rick." Morty responded, his voice equally quiet. He dropped the metal band between them. "Put on the collar."

"Why the hell should I do t-that? If you're gonna shoot me just fucking do do it already."

"I am not going to shoot you."

"Wow really? T-that's that's great. I feel so much better. And if you didn't get it from the blatant sarcasm, I'm not putting on the shitty collar."

Morty looked him dead in the eye. He cracked the lid of the bottle and tipped it. The clear liquid slipped on the floor. Something primal inside Rick snapped awake and he jerked forward, trying to save the water. A long forgotten thirst crawled back, followed by another that burner his veins rather than his throat.

"Put on the collar."

He ground his teeth, the action sending pain through his aching jaw. In prison they gave him the barest of necessities in that grey sludge they called food. It kept him alive, but in the way of hydration he wouldn't last a day without it. 

His hands started to tremble from the dehydration, and the fear. The collar was cold to the touch. For a moment, the thought of just letting himself die touched his mind. He couldn't go back now, and once the collar was on he doubted he could get to his family. So at this point it might be best to let it go before Morty could get what he needed out of him.

The unbearable acidic burn in his throat won before his thoughts of death could take him anywhere. He was so fucking thirsty, so thirsty he had forgot. The latch snapped closed and the bottle was in his hands an instant later. Room temperature felt like ice to his burning mouth. It almost didn't occur to him that he would get sick if he chugged the bottle. 

A sputtering cough tore its way out, precious water spilling on the stone floor. He felt the nausea like a punch to the gut. His hand was over his mouth in an instant, trying to keep it in. A mantra of self depreciating slurs rang in his head. There's no fucking telling when he would get water again, not with this Morty, and he was wasting it.

The coughing died down slowly, but the nausea stayed. He found himself reaching for the bottle cap, securing it on as tightly as possible so as to not lose any more of his water. Morty had gotten up and left at some point, probably while he was being an idiot and not paying attention to how quickly he was drinking. Fucking idiot.

Rick hugged the bottle close to his chest. For the first time in a long time he felt his bones clearly through his skin. They really were feeding him the bare fucking essentials. There's no way he could have survived more than a day on his own. Shit.

He weakly pushed the bottle under his shirt, then slid to the floor. The cold stone felt nice on his face, despite him being sick of the cold. Exhaustion hit him like a truck. For a second he figured the water had been drugged, but he knew it was probably because he actually moved for the first time in months. Hell, he would probably die if he was drugged now.

"That would be so fucking funny." Rick mumbled, his eyes slipping closed. "If I fucking died right now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hungry

A portal opened an inch from Rick's head, awaking him with a start. He jerked is head back to see another Rick dressed in prison clothes step into the portal. The glowing green light closed, leaving him in darkness.

It was in this moment, seemingly alone in the dark, that Rick realized he was naked. His hands were empty which sent a wave of panic through his chest. He scrambled into a sitting position unsteadily. The room span but he couldn't find it in him to care. Where the fuck was the bottle?

"Are you looking for this?" A familiar voice spoke from the shadows. 

Rick's head snapped up. "Give i-it back M-M-Morty." 

An amused eyebrow was raised. "What can you do?"

Rick found himself shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't survive long without that fucking water and Morty knew that. He would need to eat soon too. Morty knew that too. He knew a lot of things it would seem. But that made sense. This wasn't just a Morty. Rick would have to be very careful if he wanted to live.

"I can't d-do anything r-right now Morty. That's the-the fucking point."

"Do you honestly believe I care?"

"Y-you wouldn't have f-fucking saved me if you-didn't if you didn't care." Something changed in his eyes. He grit his teeth and narrowed his gaze. Fuck. "Look I d-don't know why y-you want me but-but whatever the reason it probably won't w-work if I die. So don't be stupid M-Morty."

Focused eyes shifted their gaze to the bottle. The water reflected the dim light shining from the ceiling. It left a bright spot on the floor. Rick found it easier to look at that than the child in front of him. It was getting harder to think.

"Why did you left them capture you?" Morty asked.

"To protect my family." Rick replied.

There was silence between them. He let is grandson process the information, although it seemed more like he was trying to figure out what other reasons there could be. What he was hiding? Why he would lie and say the least likely reason? That's what Rick would be thinking if the situation was reversed.

The bottle rolled out of Morty's hand and he walked back into the shadows. Rick weakly crawled towards it. He opened it the second it was in his grasp and swallowed a mouthful. It made him colder than before but at least there was something in his stomach. 

He licked his lips slowly, realizing only now there was something strange about the room he was in. His eyes narrowed and he reached forward. Cold glass met his equally cold fingers. A tube? Filled with transparent blue liquid?

He forced himself to look up, not letting his fear keep him from knowing. He was almost glad it wasn't another Morty floating in the probably oxygen rich fluid, though he had little idea why he expected it to be. 

Instead he was met face to face with himself. It was like Operation Phoenix all over again. Only this time he hadn't made the clone. He couldn't see much of a reason to even have it, but it unsettled him to his core. The feeling deepened to the point he felt sick to his practically empty stomach when he looked around and saw other tubes holding other Ricks hiding in the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the quality is so bad I legit write these at midnight after school and I'm always super tired.

Rick stumbled weakly through the room, using the various tables and incubation tubes as leverage. This room was very unorganized, everything left about in a way that only another Rick would be able to understand. Everything made sense in the way that it shouldn't which meant either Morty used the same system or he was just that brilliant.

He glanced about the various things scattered on the warm surfaces. Wires and metal, chemicals in closed and open containers, scraps of stained cloth. A familiar shirt stood out among the organized clutter. Another thing Rick doubted he would ever see again. Apparently his past liked to come back to haunt him.

The shirt slipped on easily but hung off his starved frame like a blanket. He looked around for anything else to wear. It actually didn't bother him that he was naked, he was more concerned about how Morty would react. Which, in all honestly, was a very weird feeling.

Light flooded the room as the door opened suddenly. Rick's first instinct was to hide, to grab something sharp from the table and slide underneath to keep himself from being found. His heart was either beating too fast or it has stopped. 

Sharp eyes met his. At least, one was sharp. There was something off about the other. Almost like it wasn't entirely real. For a split second, Rick wondered if any of this was real. Maybe he was still in prison, still eating from a tube and staring into space. Maybe he had finally cracked.

"You need to eat." Morty said before walking into the room. He walked past Rick, kept going past tables and tubes until he arrived at a very specific one in the corner.

The Rick inside looked smaller than the others. He clearly wasn't developing right, his head bigger than it should be and his skin tight against his skeleton. His skin wasn't as thick as it should be either. Veins stood out clearly and, in some places, even his muscles. 

Morty stared at the Rick. Then he reached up and pressed a button on the side of the tube. The bottom unlatched and the glass slid up. The pale blue slime spilled out, and with it the Rick. A foot was pressed on the Rick's fragile neck. In that moment, his eyes opened. He stared at what should have been his genetic copy. There was light in that confused, pain filled gaze, before it was crushed beneath a boot.

Rick, the original one, didn't think about it. He thought about food instead. He thought about the water bottle that was still in his grasp. With shaking hands, he opened the top and took a small sip. It burned going down, but in the good way. 

Morty walked up to him, his bloody feet leaving a trail. The room felt like it was spinning. Rick felt sick again, but in the bone aching way. He really fucking needed to eat.

"Come with me." Morty said. 

Rick couldn't find it in him to argue.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few hours later than normal cause I wanted to watch Back to the Future.

Food tasted stronger than Rick remembered. Fruit sweeter, bread bolder, meat saltier. Of course, he was only given a very small amount compared to what he was used to before. It didn't surprise him when it was almost too much to handle. Everything gave him a violent stomach ache.

He loved the way the meat felt between his teeth, the way he it made his jaw felt to give that extra effort to grind it down. He recognized it as something like beef only being white meat. It was actually fairly common. The fruit's name eluded him, but he had had it before. It was very similar to an orange only it was purple and tasted more like a peach. 

It was the bread, what little of it he had, was most like food from Earth. It was simple white bread, and in all actuality probably could be from Earth. The Federation had taken it over before Rick went to prison so it was very likely that common foods had started spreading throughout the galaxy.

Morty waited until after he finished eating to give him pants. Why the fuck he waited so long was beyond Rick's understanding. Which meant he didn't care enough to think about it. What he did care about were the pants. They were soft black sweatpants. He usually only wore something like this when he was sick or really lazy but he wasn't going to complain.

Rick looked at the bare stone walls. The room they were in looked like it had once been a dining room, with high walls and an even floor. There were a few long tables pushed against the walls as well as one in the middle of the room where they sat. Some creates were piled in a corner, several opened already. That's where the good was kept.

"So w-what kind of things to you do-do here Morty?" Rick asked, hoping to find a way to fill the silence.

Sharp eyes met his but there was no response. 

"Its a r-real nice place. You can probably hide here for a good few years without ever getting found. It would b-be a bit better with a shield." 

There was a pregnant pause, then those sharp eyes flickered down. Rick touched the collar, having completely forgotten he was wearing it. He felt along the smooth sides. It was slightly warmer in some places but there didn't seem to be much risk of it overheating. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why did you m-make me put this on?"

Morty sighed. "Mortys serve as decent shields, however they have several drawbacks. I am sure you know that it is not an exact science. One Rick could have slightly different brain waves than another. The same can be said for a Morty. It still baffles me that no Rick has come up with a solution to this problem."

"W-what the hell does that mean?"

The teenager smirked and didn't respond. Instead he got up and went over to the crates. While he was rummaging around, Rick thought it over. The only explanation he could find was that it gave out an artificial brainwave pattern which canceled out his own. It would probably change automatically to accommodate whoever wore it. Honestly, the entire concept was brilliant and Rick wondered why he had never thought of this.

Or it was a fucking shock collar and Morty was fucking with him. That seemed a lot more likely considering he was the snarky shit he was. Hell, maybe it was both. Maybe it would explode if he tried to take it off or leave. The possibilities were endless. 

"Why did you break me out?" Rick asked after the silence started to drag on again.

"I can use you." Morty said.

"For what? The f-fucking cloning?"

"How were the withdrawal?" Morty asked, trying to change the subject.

"No fuck you. I want to know what you're planning." Rick still wasn't thinking straight but at least he was getting out coherent sentences, even if they were probably going to fuck him over really soon. 

Morty wandered back to the table with a box of Strawberry Smiggles. It reminded Rick of a commercial, his Morty laughing in a hospital. He chased away the memory and tried not to lose himself in a memory. It was only now occurring to him how dangerous that could be. In prison it was normal to lose himself, but if it was going to happen while he was talking, or worse fighting, then it could seriously fuck him up.

"You should go to sleep." Morty said.

"What? No I'm fine. D-don't try to change the subject." Rick snapped, his voice shaking

"You fell asleep on the floor and did not notice when I stripped you."

"Why the fuck d-did you do that anyway?" 

"It would have been dangerous if they realized you had broken out."

Rick's head started to hurt. "Did you use one of those clones?"

There was that smirk again. Morty pushed his chair away from the table and rose, taking the cereal box with him. He went over to his grandfather and grabbed his arm. Rick protested weakly but the exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. Fuck maybe the prick was right.

They left the room and wandered through a series of maze-like hallways. Rick could barely pay attention, much less keep up with where they were going. It was going to be a bitch to find his way out. 

When they arrived at wherever they were going, Rick was exhausted. He knew it was largely because his stamina was almost nonexistent at this point. He would have to work on that. For now though, he let Morty lead him to a bed. And even though he should have been on guard and ready to slit the throat of anyone who attacked him, he found himself just curling up and falling asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've reached the end of the Rick and Morty fandom on tumblr which is just PAINFUL. Also I think The Neighborhood works really fucking well for Rick and I really hope one of their songs plays in season 3 cause its good shit.

There was a certain fear to waking up in a strange place. Rick was used to it by now, but it always sent a icy stab of terror through his gut. Luckily he also knew how to push it down so it wasn't an ever present feeling clouding his judgment. But it would never fully go away.

Light spilled through the crack under the door, dimly illuminating the room. Thick shadows cloaked the walls, despite them being fairly close. The only other light was the faint green glow from his collar. He hasn't noticed it glowed until now.

Rick sat up in the bed. Springs creaked loudly, assaulting his ears. He flinched. Of fucking course he had gotten sensitive to that shit. He was probably extremely sensitive to light at this point too. It might even be to the point that he could seriously damage his eyes if he went into direct sunlight right now, though it was hard to tell.

He pushed himself off the bed. His muscles creaked louder than the springs and the shaking started almost right away. Everything hurt and he was thirsty as shit. Where the fuck was his water bottle? Fuck did he fucking leave it somewhere?

Rick felt along the bed, smoothing out the blankets in the dark in an attempt to find that fucking bottle. There was no fucking way he was asking Morty for one. That little shit already had too much power and there was no way Rick was going to give him any more. Fuck.

His fingers grazed the cold plastic and he snatched it up before he fully realized what it was. The severe dehydration was definitely fucking with his head. It was hard to think clearly. There was no way he could figure out what he was going to do the way he was now.

He took a few sips in the dark, holding the bottle close. The shaking was still fairly bad, but it was getting better. His mind drifted from one thought to the next. What was his Morty doing? How was he doing in school? Was he even still in school? How was Beth doing? Was Jerry still alive or did his stupidity kill him? 

Was Squanchy alive? Probably not. And if he was then he was probably in prison which is arguably worse than death. Guilt gripped his heart and he found himself craving something stronger to drink. Would that bring back the withdrawls? The hallucinations? The violent sickness and pain? The vicious cravings?

Rick sat back down on the bed and put his head in his hands. The water swisher around the bottle, cooling the plastic in his hand. Fuck this was a mess. He needed to stay sober for once if he wanted to figure this out. Even if that just made him want to die that much more.

A wave of exhaustion all but smacked him in the face. He laid on his side, feet still touching the floor. He thought about the clones. The one who died and the ones who had yet to be born. Why did Morty make them? What were they for?

Why did he save Rick? Why him specifically? If he wanted a Rick he could have broken out any other who had been captured or turned themselves in. Deep down he knew why but he didn't want to face that. Not when he was already dealing with so much other shit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yeah bringing in the alcoholism. Gonna be fun. But seriously I hope you guys are having a great day. Its 2am for me lol so I'm gonna go to sleep now.

The door opened suddenly, momentarily blinding Rick. He didn't bother squinting to see Morty because his grandson was already grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the room. Fuck he already felt sick.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the light but that did little to help. Everything hurt and he wanted to go back to sleep. Why did Morty have to break him out of prison anyway? It was just going to get his own Morty hurt, as well as the rest of his family. Fuck this.

They entered a small room with sofas and a television. Morty all but shoved him on one of the various couches. His footsteps were short and clipped as he walked over to a cabinet against the wall. Rick couldn't tell what was inside from this angle, but the sound of glass clunking together made the alcohol cravings hit hard.

A bottle of whiskey was shoved into his hands a moment later. Rick stared at it like it was the last thing he would ever see. It took everything he could not to start chugging the bottle right there. Instead he drank more water. 

"At least you are smart enough not to kill yourself." Morty said, sitting next to him.

"S-shut the fu-fuck up." Rick stuttered, shaking harder than before. Fuck he needed to think. Why the fuck?

"Mumbling to yourself is unbecoming Rick." Morty said.

"Fuck you."

They fell into silence while Rick drank his water. Otherwise the violent dehydration would probably kill him. Fuck. He closed his eyes and pushed the bottle onto the floor. Glass shattered, alcohol spilled and seeped into the cracks in the floor. Rick felt like his soul was breaking.

He drank the last of his water and curled up on his side. Every cell in his body burned with need. He wanted to die or drink but mostly just die. If he wasn't so weak he could barely walk on his own then there wasn't a doubt in his kind he would be crawling to that cabinet to get a fucking drink. Fuck.

Rick didn't realize he had been pulled back into somewhat of a sitting position until a warm spoon was pressed into his hand. He grasped it weakly. There was a small bowl directly in front of him sitting on the worn surface of a coffee table.

With a heavy sigh, he forced himself to lean forward. There was no fucking point to this but he had enough practice in forcing himself to eat that it was almost automatic now. It was tasteless, although he knew in the back of his mind he knew it tasted like something. It probably felt like something too, but all he could think about was the burn of alcohol. Fuck he needed it. It didn't matter if it killed him, he needed it.

And then Morty said it. "I'm surprised."

Rick almost didn't catch it, but once it registered in his disaster of a mind it brought sweet flavor back to his mouth. He knew this Morty, at least he had at one point. This Morty thought he knew everything, thought he couldn't be surprised by anything. Especially towards Rick. 

He swallowed whatever the fuck he was eating and looked at Morty. Really looked at him. Faint scars dotted his face and arms. His left eye was slightly more distant, like it wasn't entirely there. Or entirely real. It would make a lot of sense, and he wouldn't put it past this Morty to replace an eye with some kind of robotics and be able to hide it.

There was muscle too, but not too much. It was like he was careful not to let it build up. Otherwise he would stand out and that could ruin whatever sick plan he had. His clothes were worn and faded, but that might just be the lighting. And the fact that his head was swimming.

Rick's spoon was empty when it met his tongue. He looked at the bowl to find it empty. Well damn. His stomach didn't seem like it was going to reject it like it did the first time he drank water here. Still, he wasn't willing to take any chances with that. He leaned back in the couch and closed his eyes. 

Fuck he wanted a drink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write more but I couldn't think of anything else lol so sorry its shorter. I try to keep it at around 900 words but sometimes the chapter ends itself

Rick drifted out of a groggy sleep. His head pounded. His neck hurt. Everything hurt really. As it turned out, he'd fallen asleep on the couch with his head leaned back. It only made the pain worse when he leaned forward. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples.

Morty was gone but the television was left on. Several commercials flashed on the screen, most of them familiar. His gaze drifted over to the cabinet. The flame of desire burned beneath his skin. No, not desire. Need. His hand trembled and his throat ached for the familiar sting of alcohol. Fuck.

His hands cradled his hands. He could smell it, soaked into the floor. The shaking got worse. Everything hurt. He needed it. He would die without it. He would die with it too but at least he would die in a little less pain.

Jerry's stupid voice came broke through Rick's thoughts. He looked at the television to see his stupid son-in-law talking about cereal. How great it was. How everyone should buy it. How much he LOVED the fucking cereal. Fuck Rick wanted to punch his stupid face. Feel cartilage break under the force of his fist. Slick hot blood oozing out of the wound, painting his pale fist red. 

He covered his face, shaking violently. Everything inside him told him to scream, or drink, or break something. If he had the strength, he would do all three. Hell, if he had the strength he would just leave. It probably wasn't as simple as walking out but he could figure it out.

Rick forced himself up without really thinking about it. He forced himself to leave the room, leave the smell and the sound of Jerry's stupid voice. The shaking was getting so bad he could barely walk, but he didn't care. He wanted to go away, to hop in a portal and be gone. 

He wanted to curl up on Birdperson's couch and tell him everything that had happened. He wanted to hear his strong voice assure him that it was okay, that he was safe now. Soft feathers would brush his face. Rough hands would run through his hair. There would be screeching in the distance from other people, but it would sooth Rick like a lullaby. 

The hunger pain hit suddenly. It almost sent Rick to his knees but he caught himself in time. The sight of Birdperson dead burned behind his eyes. The echo of fingers in his hair turned to the stab he had felt in his gut when his best friend died at his own wedding. 

His appetite was gone. In fact, he felt like he was going to be sick. He let himself slide onto the floor, the energy leaving as fast as his appetite. He wanted to cry but knew he didn't have enough fluids left in his body to do it. He wanted to scream but he didn't have the will or voice to try.

Rick felt alone, violently, achingly alone. Birdperson was dead. Squanchy was either dead or in prison, which meant he was as good as dead. The Flesh Curtains shirt he was wearing left like fire against his skin, but he didn't want to take it off. He deserved the pain.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morty isn't okay either. Is anyone following this lol?

Rick's first thought upon waking was that he really needed to stop falling asleep randomly. His second thought was why the fuck he was strapped to a chair with an IV in his arm. Morty was across the room, typing something into a computer. Light spilled from around him, but his back blocked the screen from view.

"W-what the fuck Morty." Rick said, his voice a weak whisper.

"Did you honestly believe I was doing this for your benefit?" His grandson replied, a smirk in his otherwise monotonous voice.

"No, but you would have done this earlier if you just wanted to download my memories and kill me."

Morty froze, then straightened up. He flattened his hands on the table. The silhouette stood silently. There was a sigh. Then a soft chuckle.

"How long have you known?" He said.

"I knew the when I saw you with that Rick. It was-was an almost perfect fucking match. But n-now that I think about it, there was probably a reason for that." Rick replied.

Morty turned, leaned against the table, his palms flat on its surface. His expression was hidden beneath a veil of darkness, but when he spoke the longing slipped into his voice. "We were the best Rick and Morty."

"And lo-look where that got us."

"Nothing could stop us."

"We aren't good together Morty."

"We're great together Rick." Anger slipped in now. Not the hot kind either, the kind that burned hot but fast. It was the cold anger, the kind that froze blood and cracked bones.

"M-Morty you make me dangerous. I make you dangerous."

Teeth grinding anger. "You make me better."

"How many worlds did we destroy? H-how many people did we kill?" It was only just now occurring to Rick that this could be what kills him. Arguing for the sake of others, at the hand of his deranged grandson. He knew what would likely happen if they decided to team back up. He knew how many more worlds would be destroyed. 

His Morty would probably be killed out of jealousy. The rest of his family too. Fuck they would probably be killed anyway. It would be too dangerous to let them live. Morty would probably do it quietly, make it look like Rick did it. Probably before offing himself. That might be a use for one of the clones.

"Do you know what happened to my stutter?" Morty said suddenly. He didn't wait for Rick to respond. "I trained it out of me. It took a few years but I finally got it to stop."

His eyes flashed in the dark, the left brighter than the right. His shoulders were straight, tense in the way that said he was in pain. Even in the low light Rick could make out the features on Morty's face. The wide smile, the sad eyes. He was trembling. 

"I-I'm proud of you." Rick said, knowing he was walking a very thin line. 

There was a quiet laugh. Then Rick watched as Morty relaxed. He turned back to the screen with a wave of his hand and in a very nonchalant voice he said, "Well I don't care what you think. I just wanted to know if you could tell the difference."

Rick's eyed narrowed. Fuck he couldn't tell if that was a lie to cover up his behavior, or if he really was just pulling strings to see what makes him tick. Shit this was going to be really fucking difficult.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its really short but I'm exhausted. Hope you had/are currently having a great day

"Hey M-Morty why am I strapped down?"

The sound of typing paused, then resumed a moment after. Rick could tell that he fucked up. He knew he shouldn't have spoken earlier, shouldn't have asked questions. It was dangerous and would probably create some distance. He needed to figure out what he was going to do.

He looked at the needle taped in his arm. It stung in the way that didn't really hurt but was noticeable and annoying. His eyes followed the tube up to a bag hanging above his head. It was almost empty, save for a small pool of clear liquid near the bottom. 

His head felt clearer than it had been in months. There wasn't any painful dryness in his mouth and throat either. All in all he felt fine. It didn't feel like he was being drugged or poisoned, and a part of him doubted he would be right now. Morty needed him. He needed a Rick to hide behind. Otherwise he would be considered too dangerous to walk around free. 

Morty walked away from the computer, but the screen was blank when Rick looked at it. He walked over to a cabinet against the wall, his actions still hidden from his grandfather. Rick looked at the computer again, then at the wall opposite his grandson. Even in the darkness, he could make out the dark outlines of television screens. 

He remembered the shield made of Mortys. The screaming chorus of children strapped naked to a dome and forced to suffer. It made him almost feel sick just thinking about it. 

Morty walked back over, tapping a syringe as he went. Rick felt something tug in his heart as he stared at the faintly colored liquid. Fuck. He couldn't tell but he really hoped that wasn't poison. He really hoped it didn't kill him slowly if it was. Slow painful deaths were the worst way to go.

"W-what are you gonna do with that Morty?" Rick asked, his voice weak. He already knew but hopefully he could stall.

Sharp eyes met his. A soulless smirk blossomed on chapped lips. Rick sneered back. The needle slipped into the tube and a faint blue shot down the tube. Rick's mind went to the void.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been a bit huh? Tbh I have no fucking clue where in going with this so I'm just winging it. Buuuut I think I figured out a few things so expect more soon. Bye~

_Rick awoke like he was coming down from a high. In a sense he was, and he knew somewhere in the muggy pond of his mind that he was, but he didn't bother to focus on that. He focused instead on the lights and how bright they were. He focused on the distant sounds, all of which were too loud and came without warning. His head pounded and his clothes burned against his skin. His skin burned. He wanted to die._

_Something soft touched his forehead. A shiver went down his spine at the gentle cold and he leaned into it. Everything burned except the touch. His stomach lurched. He felt like crying._

_Cool fingers brushed his cheek, wiped away fiery trails, leaving colder stains. Rick swallowed in an attempt to soothe his burning throat. It hurt and he wanted to gag. This was starting to feel less like he was coming down and more like he was violently craving something. His hands formed fists and he silently wished whoever was touching him would just put a bullet in his brain already._

_Fingers brushed his throat. They wrapped around the fragile form like a collar. Pressure built and suddenly Rick couldn't breathe. Harsh panic flashed through his mind. He wanted to die. He wanted it to end. He wanted to go home. He wanted..._

_The hand left. A cold spot formed. His body burned and his blood boiled. What little hold he had on his mind started to slip. Rick let himself sink and hoped that would be it. Please let that be it. Let it be over._


	12. Chapter 12

There was always a certain stab of fear that came with waking up. It was painful and always went straight to the gut. Rick found himself on a table, his wrists bruised. The room was dark, almost too dark to see but he was used to things like that. There was a blinking monitor against the far wall, the screen caught in an automated game with itself. The faint lights caused pain to blossom behind Rick's eyes but he couldn't look away.

Slowly, as to not agitate his pounding head and now somersaulting stomach, Rick forced himself up. Bile burned his throat. He swallowed it back only to break out into a coughing fit. Hot liquid slid down his chin. Pain from every inch of his body shot through him all at once. He doubled over and let himself slide off the table onto the icy floor. What the fuck did that little shit do to him?

The memory of a hand burned like a brand around his throat. He brushed the tingling skin, felt the unbroken flesh beneath his sensitive fingers. Hot breath escaped him. He closed his tired eyes and let his face rest on the floor. Everything was a violent clash of fire and frost and he hated it. Dark cloth of a forgotten shirt clung to him like a frightened child and he wished for more. He was so fucking tired of the cold. 

Rick forced himself to stand on trembling legs. He braced his hands on the still warm and equally freezing table. His gaze flickered to the walls. Ghosts danced in the shadows, playing with his already hazy vision. Pressure built in his skull and his fingers ached for the familiar weight of his flask. His tongue burned for the taste of alcohol. Something inside of him broke at the thought. His body moved on its own. Before he knew it, he was stumbling down the hall. His feet tangled on their own, his legs numbed in the freezing air. it was hard to move properly and he wanted to die or drink or something. 

The hallways of the building were a labyrinth of darkened walls and dead ends. There was no sense to it, no discernible pattern. Rick found himself stumbling passes locked doors in search of the thing he craved. Everything ached with need as he tried another door in vein.

He was shaking hard, felt like he was crying, but his face was bone dry. Rick's throat locked and a dry sob bubbled up. He felt like a fucking child, breaking down in the hallway like this. There weren't even tears, just quiet, hiccuping sobs. It felt like there was a knife in his chest. 

Soft light spilled through a small window as Rick rounded the corner. He stumbled towards the light, towards the door and maybe the one thing he needed. It was unlocked and opened easily. His heart raced with fear and excitement and need. The empty sobs grew louder as he stumbled towards the cabinet.

Rick all but fell to the floor. He faintly noticed blood softly pooling from his feet from the broken glass left on the floor. His head swam as the ghost of alcohol brushed against his senses. The memory of breaking the bottle flashed through his mind as he pulled the door opened.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why this took me like 2 months to write lol

Empty walls met Rick's frantic gaze. An echo of the scent of alcohol drifted from the worn stone. Anger boiled in his blood, dripped from his knuckles that had suddenly cracked the wall. He had no memory of making the fist, much less having punched the hard stone. His gaze drifted off and the pain hit.

Fucking Morty and his fucking sadistic mind games. Rick knew he should have killed that fucker when he had the chance. Now he's got his fucking plans or whatever trying to do whatever the fuck he wants. Fuck he needed a drink but the fucking alcohol was gone. Fuck.

Rick rose from the floor, shaking like a fucking leaf. He honest to whatever god there was didn't care if he died within the next few minutes. He was gonna die with a blood alcohol level of at least 0.2, if not much more. A joke from when he was in his mid fourties drifted into his mind. Rick would be the one to die with a bottle in his mouth. And while that was during that one really weird phase with his ex-wife, it still mostly held true.

The rustle of fabric caught his attention and he turned swiftly to see an empty doorway. Shadows danced on the walls. Rick was either going crazy or was being fucked with royally, and he really didn't care which. Either way someone was going to pay for it.

Stumbling out into the hall, he found himself mumbling obscenities to himself. His handprints left ghosts on the cold stone, the outlines fading almost instantly. Another rustle of fabric rang in his ears and he felt something almost sinister boil up inside him. The walls started to spin and he felt sick. How long had he been there? How long had it been since he went to prison? Why didn't he know what time it fucking was?

"You look horrifying." A voice said so quietly that it could have been a ghost. 

A gaze overflowing with emotions indecrible met a pair of empty, tired eyes. The white of his lab coat glowed almost like a halo in the darkness. In his far more intoxicated moments, Rick used to see this Morty as some sort of otherworldly being. If he was religious, he would probably see the not quite a child as an angel. But then he wasn't religious and he didn't believe in shit like that. He also wasn't drunk or high, he was just really really fucked up by all of this shit. 

Eyes trailed down. "You're still not wearing pants."

A glare was given in response, Rick not trusting his mouth to respond in a way that wouldn't piss off the only person who could give him what he wants. 

"You were talkative earlier. What happened?" There was a smirk in his tone that was hidden underneath the mask. If that was a mask. It was hard as fuck to tell with him. "Are you looking for something." An almost primal sound bubbled up past his throat. It slipped off his tongue like syrup, sticking to the sides of his mouth and leaving a strong taste behind. He could feel the aftereffects burning in his chest as those tired eyes grew dark. Gears turned in Rick's muddled mind. If he wasn't so incredibly fucked up right now he would probably have figured out everything. Why Morty was doing this. What he was planning on doing. Maybe even where they were. But even the notion of trying to figuring it out turned his migraine into a death wish. If there was anything in his stomach it burned the back of his throat, but failed to go any higher. His cold, trembling hands curled into fists and he wanted to cry again. Fuck.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to reread this to get a feel again and holy shit I forgot evil morty is just layers upon layers of fucking power moves. Its really funny

"What's wrong with you?" Rick snarled.

The bastard smirked. Or maybe he had been smirking before but it grew and became something far more cruel than what should be on a Morty's face. "I could ask you the same question. I mean look at you." He made a vague gesture to Rock's lower half. Bare, feet bloodied and legs shaking. "You look ridiculous."

"What do you want?" 

Eyebrows rose, "Excuse me?"

Rick started to shake with barely contained rage. His veins flowed with desire and he pushed away the thoughts of murder for later. "W-w-what do I have to do to get you to stop playing these fucking mind games and let me fucking get wasted?"

Morty snorted. He fucking snorted. Of all the things he could do he fucking snorted and Rick's self control snapped. He lunged for his grandson, shouting obscenities and accusations of being a psychopath. 

The younger man sionly turned and ran. He was easily faster than his grandfather and that just pissed Rick off even more. He filled the hallways with his weak voice. They turned sharp corners, Morty leading them through a maze that only he knew the secrets to. And it made his body burn. Worse than before. Worse than he had ever felt before. And to make matters worse his dick kept slapping his legs in a very arousing way. The last thing he wanted was a hate boner for his grandson.

Morty was gaining a fair amount of distance. But just when it seemed like he would escape, he stopped. Just right there. In the middle of the hallway. Like a fucking idiot. And Rick even smiled because his grandson, despite all his tenuous, was actually and idiot and was gking to die right there by the hands of his own grandfather.

He reached out, about to close his hands around that asshole's neck, when something pulled. Everything inside of him crashed into each other. His mind short circuited. His head throbbed. His brain hurt. And for a moment he forgot who he was and what he was doing.

Morty turned, slowly. The smirk still plastered on his smug face. The prick. He looked like a kid who had just bested their parents. Who had tricked them into punishing them, but really they were getting everything they wanted in the end. No. Morty looked like he had just won the biggest game of his life. Again.

"What's wrong grandpa Rick?" He said in a quiet, almost scared tone. His expression dropped to match the tone. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Face pale and vulnerable "Are you okay?"

A snarl burned in his throat but never found his lips. His hands slowly, painfully slowly, dropped to his sides. He stood straight, like the soldier he had never been. All of this was done not of his own accord. Rick could feel his body tense, then relax all at once. It was like a machine reorienting itself after the computer crashed. Bringing back up everything as it bad before anything went wrong. 

Morty turned to fully look at him and laughed. It was a sweet sound, almost like church bells. But more like ice shattering on concrete. He expected himself to try to lunge again, but the murderous intent was gone. Replacing it was a dry, hollow feeling. Almost like having nothing in your stomach. 

"You should be able to move again if you want." Morty said, the smile leeching into his voice like ink in water. "But you couldn't attack me even if you wanted to."

Rick looked at his hand, slowly clenching and unclenching a fist. "What did you do to me?"

The smile finally het his eyes. Morty walked up and stuck his face inches from his grandfathers. His face reflected that of a condensing child who though he knew everything. Only he did. And it sent a wave of terror down Rick's spine. 

"What do you think I did?" 

His footsteps echoed in the dark halls. White trailed behind him, the lab coat fluttering almost like a cape. And Rick was left alone with his own thoughts, and a deep, horrifying fear of his grandson.


	15. Chapter 15

It took a several hours for Rick to find pants. Or maybe it had only been a few minutes. He couldn't tell time anymore. to make matters worse, the entire building was set up like a labyrinth. It made navigating almost impossible. 

If he had to be completely honest, Rick was impressed. It seemed like there was no sense to the maze of hallways. But when he thought about where everything was, it was a fairly simple pattern that was hidden behind dead ends false rooms, and fake doors. If there were two hallways across from each other, then they would both be dead ends and the next two would have only bedrooms. Every third door was fake, but every third fake door was a laboratory of some kind. If a hallway ended with an odd number of doors, then there would be a storage room along that hallway, but the door it would be behind would be completely random. Or, he just hadn't cracked that code. 

He was also almost certain that there was some kind of counting involved. Doors leading to what appeared to be recreational rooms that were on the left side of the right hallways were in ascending order closer to the beginning of the hall, and vice versa. These would also only happen down every third hallway. It was very confusing, but it seemed to make sense.

He had yet to see any windows which probably meant they were underground. It was painfully dark, so either there was a lot of trouble producing electricity, or it was all being directed to something powerful. Rick didn't want to think about what that could be. 

The pants he found were cargo pants, the color dull and the hems stained brown. He didn't want to think about the blood stains either. So, without thinking about it, he pulled them on. They were too big, but he managed to find a belt in the pile of discarded clothes. There were a lot of yellow shirts and jeans. Some were bloodied. Many were torn. 

He looked around the room, decided it was probably a trash room. Which meant they were probably on a fairly uninhabited planet. There was a lot of clothes, a few trash bags. Against a darkened wall, there was a door. Slowly, he walked over to it. 

He passed an invisible point and a loud buzzing blared from the speakers. It made his ears ring. Everything protested against the sound. He stomach sank. Everything tensed. It felt like he was dying. And he really had to pick a different metaphor for that because it was getting annoying. Suddenly, all the air was sucked out of the room. The door opened, light flooded in. And then rick was almost blown back by fresh air rushing in.

It was crisp, cold, like morning air. The sky was a bright orange. The sun had dipped under the horizon, or maybe it was just about to come up. He followed the horizon, looked at the dark canyon below. It looked like they building they were in was built into the side of a cliff. And when he went to the edge, he found it hard to see the bottom.


End file.
